


and so the world halts for thee

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Second Person, Urianger POV, yes it’s written Like That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: “I...” Words become clogged, strangled in thy throat. “I desireth thee more than words can ever express. For years I hath lamented under the weight of thy gaze. If thou wouldst have me, take me. I give my all to thee.”
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	and so the world halts for thee

Through the window below it was clear to hear the people of the Crystarium cheering and making merry, their yells slurred by drink and fueled by the sight of the night sky above them. Their hearty singing was uplifting, bringing joy to thy heart and the promise that the accomplishments (and sacrifices) of thee and thine were not to be in vain. Thou hast aided in returning hope to the First; a lofty task driven to its final conclusion, thy meddling given purpose. 

Within the Suite above t’was just thee and Thancred, who had followed inside without necessarily being invited. It brothered thee naught—where thou wert to go thou wouldst gladly have the Gunbreaker follow. 

It eluded thee naught that it was well within the realm of possibility that both thou and he may have perished this past day, whether that be from the might of Hades, or from the danger of thine own Warrior of Light. From the look in Thancred’s eyes—soft, and warm, and churning like silver honey ‘neath dark lashes—it seemeth as though he believeth much in the same; that yestermorn may have been thy last moments. Mayhap thou art projecting hope upon him but it appeareth as so he looks at thee like he is afraid to lose thy heart, and thou art unable to find words to express the clenching within thy bosom. 

It is by fortune alone that it appeareth thou needed not concern thyself with such confessions for he is upon thee before thy sentence can end. He silences thee with a kiss so fierce that thou art sure that even thy body limp and cold in the Source would be able to feel it. His lips are soft and he smells of gunpowder, the aetheric tang of his cartridges stuck upon his skin, etched into his being as though they hath become a permanent fixture upon his whole. Thy heart is in thine ears, thundering like a pack of beasts, rushing past thee like waves upon sand. 

The reminder that thou art both but shifting spectres doth not hold a place in thy mind as he _feels_ solid against thee, and that is all that thou carest for. 

It becomes abundantly clear upon some awkward pauses and turns that thou hath lamentably little experience in this area when compared beside Thancred, and the thought causes thee momentary pause. Would he be insulted by thy inexperience, or repelled by it? Thou do not want for interest, only that thou might struggle to find a way in which to express it. Touch hath ever been a realm away from thee, and thou fear he may take thy hesitation as rejection. 

In the moments where he breaks away from thee, thou dost deign to ask; “Is this truly thy heart’s desire?” 

If it is not, thou wouldst blame him naught. Thou hath caused him enough pain to allow a chance at a change of heart, no matter the toll it would wreak upon thy soul. 

Thancred gives thee a flat look. He is but mere ilms away from thy skin, his breath dusting across thy cheeks. “Is this not clear enough?” 

Thou art able only to blink. A counter hangeth upon thy lips, but it becomes trapped in thy throat before it can be born.

Thancred frowns. “Do _you_ not want this?” 

Thy head cannot shake fast enough. “I…” Words become clogged, strangled in thy throat. “I desireth thee more than words can ever express. For years I hath lamented under the weight of thy gaze. If thou wouldst have me, take me. I give my all to thee.” 

His throat bobs as he swallows. His eyes grow half-lidded and it occurs to thee that this is a view thou hath rarely been privy to. Rare was it that thou were ever looked upon with such open desire. It sends a shiver down thy spine. 

The flinch as Thancred’s hands come to rest against thy chest cannot be helped, even though they feel as though they were always meant to rest there. Thou art sure he can feel thy fluttering heart ‘neath his palms. 

A gasp slips from thy lips as he places pressure upon thee, guiding thee backwards until thy legs hit the soft mattress of this Pendant suite’s bedding. With a quick shove thou find thyself upon thy back, looking up at the most beloved sight thou hast ever been privy to—a Thancred who looks upon thee with _love_ , open and blatant _._ Bereft of both cowl and of height, this is the most vulnerable thou hast ever felt; like a hard-backed beast stripped of its shell. 

“Do you trust me?” Thancred asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

He hath given thee no reason for distrust, no reason to believe that his intention here were impure. “With all mine heart.”

Ere long his shadow descendeth upon thee, his thighs flanking thine own. Thy heart quickens in sudden trepidation. Soft kisses are peppered across thy skin as deft hands find all the little clasps and knots that make up thy attire. Thou art impressed by how easily they fall apart beneath his fingers. 

T’would be easy for him to find purchase beneath the simplicity of thy skirts, but to thy surprise he does not take the open route that was offered. Nay, instead he unwraps thee with an unhurried slowness, basking in each and every ilm of skin afforded to his eyes. It almost makes thee wish to shy away, deeply seen in a way thou art unused to. For the way in which his eyes seemed to gaze upon something precious t’was as though he was a stargazer and thee constellations glittering in the sky above, illuminating the otherwise blackened pitch of darkness. 

He does not take the same care in undressing himself, simply choosing to throw what he can to the side in a hurried, but not clumsy, mess. It remindeth thee that it is like to be that Thancred hath become practiced in such a skill, and the flicker of jealousy that ghosts upon thy skin is easy to quell. He art thine—at least for the eve, though there is a startling glimmer of hope it was to be forever. 

Thancred is, unsurprisingly, comfortable within his own skin, glowing with a brilliant confident radiance thou art unlike to ever possess for thyself. He is gorgeous beneath the soft warm light of the lamp on the desk beside thee, flames illuminating his skin as though he were an otherworldly beauty. It makes thy breath catch in thy throat. 

Hands creep along thy thighs, fingers dancing upon sensitive skin with the promise of pleasure, both that of past and of future. Shame litters thy cheeks with a rosy blush, the evening tinting thy vision pink. 

Thou catcheth his eye and he looks upon thee with desperate _hunger_ , an open longing bubbling beneath the surface. Were heat not already pooling in the base of thy gut, it would soon to be upon witnessing such a sight. 

Ere long those dancing fingers find their way inside thee, thankfully slick and gentle. It draws a gasp from thee, muscles clenching at the sudden fullness. It isn’t pain that jolts through thee but is a neighbour, discomfort making itself known. Thou must show some sign of distress as another hand comes to rest against thy chest. 

“Careful, careful—‘tis alright,” he soothes. “It’ll feel good in but a moment.”

Thou art not wholly unfamiliar with the situation, only that thou art unused to the position. T’was not often thou wert taken to bed, and rarer still that thou wert the one against the sheets. Once before hath thee been taken in this manner—in a time _long_ long ago, when thou wert a man of but nineteen winters. The memory hath long since faded into a tattered image, destined to crumble beneath the weight of it’s written future. 

Thy companion speaketh true and after a moment to adjust the discomfort gives way to a fuzzy pleasure. Slowly, he moves his fingers, pressing against soft and sensitive skin within thee, causing pleasure to run up thy spine. A surprised moan slips from thy lips unbidden. 

“Mm,” Thancred hums. “Better?” 

“A—Aye.” ‘Tis all thou can manage, words disappearing from thy lips like grains of sand as his fingers continue their ministrations within thee. Thine eyelids begin to flutter on their own accord, uncaring of thy commands. 

Thou dost expect to be teased for thy lack of address— _finally got you to shut up, have I? Who knew this was all it took—_ but instead he says nothing, only smiles the smile of a cat who hath caught the cream. 

His pace quickens and an errant groan slips from thy throat. He plays upon thy body as easily as he would a lute or a harp, drawing music from thy lips without much effort at all. The chords only grow in intensity as the performance continues, but he pulls away before the conclusion, leaving thee heaving ragged breaths. 

It does not escape thee that thou must make a certain sight, flushed and flustered as thou art. 

“Gods, if you could see yourself…” Thancred mutters to himself. Strangely, he seems just as flustered as thee.

There is a moment of shifting—where time itself seems to stand still—then Thancred is within thee once more, his fingers replaced with the fullness of himself. It takes a not inconsiderable effort in order not to cry out. 

“No, no,” Thancred mumbles, just moments away from thine ear. For a moment thou art worried thou hath upset him, somehow, before he continues; “Don’t hold that back. I want to hear you.” 

He moves within thee, and thy body shivers. He had already brought thee so close to the edge, and now thou art left to hold on to the precipice with naught but thy fingertips. There is naught to do but moan, the sounds slipping freely from thy lips. Thy hands find purchase along his back, nails biting against his skin. Thou art like to leave behind a mark of thy touch, but thou cannot find it within thyself to care. He would look wonderful marked, peppered with the reminder of thee upon his skin. 

Thy body moves in tandem with his and it strikes thee that this is not unlike combat; the easy back and forth between the two of you, a push against a pull, the mutual trust that in where one goes, the other will follow. It makes thee feel just a touch giddy—a word that thou would previously have hesitated to use upon thyself, but thou cannot find a word more pertinent for the flip in thy gut. 

The sounds of his pleasure mingle with thine own, his voice echoing freely throughout the low lit room, far clearer then thine. He bringeth his teeth to bare against thy shoulder, leaving the faint impression of his teeth behind. A thrill runs though thy body at the thought of it, of seeing the evidence of him upon thy skin well after thy coupling. It almost draws thee to request he bite harder. His voice tips momentarily into a growl and the wave of pleasure that rushes through thee at the sound is naught one thou would admit without being under great duress. 

“That’s it,” he breathes, “You’re so good,” he continues and whilst thou thinkest that his speech doth exist only to fill a silence, thou melt beneath the praise regardless. With thy mind foggy and clouded by bliss it is easy to see how one could become tempered by this; how one could lose thyself in the sweet charms of the man above him. Thou findeth understanding within the swooning maidens of Ul’dah, for how could one resist the temptations laid out for clearly before thee? It was enough to make one feel positively crazed.

Thancred’s breath draws short and thou art able to tell that his time grows short. The flush upon this cheeks and chest sit as though they were always meant to be there, and the lusty haze in his eyes only makes them look all the sweeter. To think that thou art the cause of this beauty…

He hisses a curse, his hips stuttering against thee. Thy name is upon his lips, and the syllables hath never felt so right before; so comfortable upon the tongue of another. Heat pools in thine own gut, and thou knowest that it will take but a mere few moments to find thy fingertips slipping from that precipice and sending thee careening into an ocean of ecstasy. 

Thy moans are stifled by the reappearance of his lips upon thine own, and the vibration of his own rumble through thy being. Finger slip betwixt thine, thy joined hands pinned to the bedding below. With a hitched breath and a sudden tenseness he comes, and then soon so dost thee, following wherever he is to venture. Collectively, thy figures shiver with the aftershocks, trembling against one another. 

He doesn’t move, and neither dost thee. He pants, and thy breaths echo throughout the quiet room. Eventually he frees himself, but lingers otherwise, his nose pressed against thy cheek. In a moment of sudden affection, thou fain to reach out, pressing thy free hand against his chest, tracing his collarbone, dipping and fluttering across scars both old and new. 

“That tickles _,_ ” he laughs, and the sound has never been sweeter; a giggle far richer than even the ripest plum. He leans back, falling to thy side. His fingers idly trace along thy skin, tracing along the marks his teeth made. “Apologies, I did not intend—“

Thy head shakes seemingly on its own accord. “There art no apologies necessary. ‘Tis a blessing, not a curse.”

Thancred hums, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He is silent for a beat, clearly lost in thought. “Does this sufficiently answer your question?”

Thou wrack thy brain for a question asked by find naught of worth within thy memory. “Which inquiry would this be?”

“Your asinine worry of what I want,” Thancred replies. 

Thou sneak but a glimpse at his form beside thee, and find him positively glowing with warmth—and likely sweat. 

“Ah.” A pause—thou feel rather foolish for it. Thy lips curl into a smile. “Aye. I believe I have mine answer quite clearly.” 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) don’t look at me  
> 2) thank u for reading if you made it this far you deserve a medal


End file.
